Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You
by greatgooglymoogly88
Summary: In which Dirk meets his son's preschool teacher, the tall, dark, and handsome Jake English. Usually Dirk is so cool about these things, but there's something about that teacher that gives him the worst case of Awkward Schoolgirl Crush. If only senpai would notice him...(crappy description, good story. Lots of drunk Roxy.)


_This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I can't. I just...I need buildup for my porn I'm very sorry. But this story will have real porn I promise please don't be mad at me. Just read it please. Also, if you have any suggestions, please put it in the review section. I'd really love that. So let me know what you think!_

_p.s. For those of you who follow me regularly, you know that I've been putting this story off for literally months. And now, it's finally something so woo! _

_~Ari_

* * *

"I'm a big kid, daddy!"

Dirk chuckled as his son waved his little kid arms around in excitement, spilling a little of his Cheerios in the process. Dave was finally starting preschool today, and he was pretty pumped, to say the least. The three year old had spent the whole week prior getting together all his materials and jumping around the house like a monkey, his impatience bearing down hard on his father while he attempted to keep the tot reigned in.

It was pretty out of character for the kid, who was usually so quiet and collected. He wasn't the type to lose his shit over birthdays and holidays, but there was something about school that really got to him. Perhaps it was the notion of becoming older, growing up and moving on from toddler games and food and the like. Dirk wasn't really ready to see the tyke grow up so fast before his eyes, so in a way he was dreading this day. The day he was forced to separate himself from his son, even if it was only for a few hours and completely supervised. He could only hope that Dave would get along well with the other kids and the teacher wasn't completely dimwitted.

"Finish your Cheerios, big guy," Dirk said affectionately, ruffling the kid's shaggy blonde hair before standing up to get his tiny Smuppet lunchbox from the kitchen counter. He'd already loaded it up with snacks and a lunch, but his overzealous parental instincts brought him to cracking it open once more, just to make sure he had the right amount of food in their for the little guy to survive the few hours he would be gone.

Dirk shook his head at himself, wondering how Dave could be growing up so damn fast. It seemed like he'd only just adoptrd the kid yesterday- a tiny baby that he had found on his doorstep one day out of the blue and had no idea how to take care of (_cliche, I know)_. He remembered how naïve he had been, barely even knowing how to change a diaper. He used to rely so heavily on his best friend, Roxy, for nearly everything baby-related. She, too, was a new parent, having adopted a blonde baby girl they named Rose with her partner, a pretty brunette named Jane. The two together had combined natural parenting instincts, something Dirk expressly lacked.

He remembered one frantic phone call in particular. He'd had Dave for a month or so at that point; he was still new but had enough experience to at least pass with the daily occurrences of fatherhood. That is, until Dave started this freaky-ass thing where he would scratch at his little fragile baby face in his sleep.

_"Shit shit shit shit," Dirk had been whispering to himself as he called Roxy, whom he had on speed dial. He gripped back Dave tight in his arms, frantically trying to covered the little cuts with Spiderman plasters while the baby cried. After a few painfully long rings, Roxy had picked up._

_"It's three in the damn morning," she had greeted ever-so warmly. The faint sound of Rose crying could be heard over the phone, no doubt awoken from her slumber by the ringing phone. "What the hell do you want, Dirky?"_

_"Dave's clawing at his own face while he sleeps, Rox!" he sputtered frantically, growing red from anxiety. The baby squirmed restlessly in Dirk's arms, still pawing at his own face. "What the fuck do I do?"_

_"Well," Roxy started, "start by not cussing in front of the baby."_

_"This isn't exactly a time for jokes," Dirk snapped. _

_"Oh please, hun, calm down. All babies do that. Throw on a pair of mittens and he'll be fine."_

_"Wait, what?" Dirk said dumbly. He looked down at the crying, bloody mess in his arms. There was no way this was normal."All babies do this? How the hell is this normal?"_

_"Dunno. Just is." The blonde woman yawned into the phone. "I'm going to bed now. Don't forget the mittens." The phone clicked, the line dead._

_Dirk stared down at the infant in his arms, covered in little Spiderman plasters. "Jesus Christ," he breathed to himself. "How am I going to keep you alive into adulthood?"_

Dirk chuckled at the memory, remembering how scared he had been. Now? Dave could break an arm, and he'd still be cool and collected as hell. He had this whole fatherhood thing down pat.

Well, maybe not the whole school thing. But these things take time.

"Let's go, daddy!" Dave pulled on Dirk's sleeve excited, flashing the twenty-six year old a toothy grin. Dirk reached down to smooth the blonde hair affectionately.

"Alright, kiddo. Get in the car."

* * *

The preschool car park was jammed packed with cars, kids, and overly emotional parents. Dirk clenched his jaw as he tried to maneuver his car into a parking space without running into a little black-haired boy with glasses. "Damn kids," he whispered to himself, waving politely to the anxious father who chased after the boy with a _Ghostbusters _backpack in his arms.

Dirk turned around in his seat, looking at Dave through his sunglasses. "You ready for this, little man?" he said with a smile.

"Heck yeah!" Dave said, pumping a fist. His over-sized sunglasses lopped over on his face with the movement. It was adorable as hell.

"Then let's go in." Dirk got out, then unlatched the squirming tyke from his car seat. He grabbed his little hand and led him through the cramped car park to the entrance of the little school, a cute but popular place in the city. Dirk peered around the crowds until he spotted a familiar blonde bob, holding the hand of a similar looking little girl.

"Roxy!" he called out excitedly, leading Dave over to her. "How've ya been?"

"Oh, just peachy," she said with a sweet smile. "Rose's been hopping around the house like crazy, trying to get ready. Mommy hasn't been able to fit in a drink for days. Ain't that right, sweetie?"

The little girl looked up at her mother with a tiny smirk. "Sure, mommy. Can't wait."

Dirk laughed. Though they looked similar, the little girl was nothing like her eccentric mother. She would grow up to be a very witty, albeit sarcastic girl.

"Remember, Rose baby, teachers don't like a smartass," Roxy chastised in her sweet voice. Rose gave her a patronizing look that was far past her years.

"They're growing up too damn fast," Dirk said, half to himself. "It feels like I just yesterday that I called you about Dave throwing up Legos."

Roxy laughed, looking at the ground nostalgically. "Yeah," she agreed breathily. "But they're still so little. They have plenty of time to throw up all sorts of inanimate objects. We've got years til they're fully grown moody teenagers."

Somewhere, a bell rung. "That's our queue," Dirk said. "Time to say goodbye."

"Oh, please, Dirky, don't be so melodramatic. It's only til one o'clock."

He couldn't help but feel a little tug in his chest when he watched Dave run into the building with his friend Rose, full backpack swinging about on his back in the process.

* * *

Jesus fucking Christ. He was going to be late picking Dave up on the _first day of preschool. _God, he was a terrible father.

He sped through a red light, rewarded with multiple car honks and a plethora of middle fingers directed at him. He didn't stop though, he was already half an hour late.

How the hell did Dirk sleep through his alarm? He shook his head at himself, feeling stupid. Poor Dave would probably be traumatized for life and develop deep-set daddy issues over this damn thing, all because Dirk had wanted a fifteen minute nap.

Soon enough, Dirk had sped his way over to the preschool, not even bothering to park in a space properly. He was forty five minutes late.

He ran into the building frantically, calling out, "I'm here, Dave!"

His orange eyes danced around the classroom, a big messy place with little desks and a white board in the front of the room. Discarded toys and papers covered in crayon and marker showed evidence that the room had recently been inhabited by 25 four year olds. He calmed down visibly when he spotted Dave in one of the tiny desks, doodling contently with a pack of crayons and a drawing pad. Thank god he was all right. The little kid looked up casually when he saw his father walk in, a waved to him. "Hey, daddy," he greeted warmly. "Look at this picture I drew."

"Sure, kiddo," he said affectionately, bending down to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. "In a sec. Where's your teacher?"

"Over here," he started at the deep voice that seemed to be coming from behind him. He turned to see a cluttered desk, occupied by what had to be the hottest guy he'd ever seen in his life. Dirk blushed, taking in the man's dark tan skin, messy black hair, freckles, and thick brown glasses in front of gorgeous green eyes. He swallowed dryly, trying to control his wild blush. The teacher didn't seem to notice however, instead standing up to reveal an equally gorgeous lean body clad in a tight-fitting grey sweater and brown trousers. "You must be Mr. Strider?" He extended his hand, which Dirk couldn't help but stare blankly at for a moment.

"Uh, yes," Dirk said when he finally gained his composure. He grabbed the man's outstretched hand and shook it, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. "Please just call me Dirk. I'm Dave's dad. And you are?"

"Jake English." His voice was surprisingly deep and gravelly. "I'm the teacher here."

When Dirk thought of a preschool teacher, a middle aged woman with brightly colored jumpers and a pleasant smile came to mind. Not some fucking _Greek god. _Was this even legal? Dirk had to stop himself from shamelessly checking Jake out. He cleared his throat and tried to smile in a professional way. "I'm really sorry for being late. I slept past my alarm and there was a lot of traffic on the way over."

"It's no problem at all," Mr. English responded with a lopsided grin. "Dave didn't give me any trouble. As long as this doesn't become a regular thing, we should be fine."

_Yeah we're fine, _Dirk couldn't help but think to himself. _Fine as hell. _

"So, how did Dave do today?"

Mr. English looking down at the coloring little kid and smiled. "He's getting along fine," he responded thoughtfully. "He seems to work well with the other kids. But," he said, turning back to Dirk, "only time can tell."

"He shouldn't give you any problems. He's always been a good kid." Dave got up at that point, rushing to Dirk's side to pull on his pant leg.

"Look!" he said excitedly, waving around a crayon picture with a look of pride on his tiny face. Dirk chuckled and reached down to pet the kid's hair.

"That's awesome, little man. What's on it?"

"This one is you," Dave said, pointing to the tallest of the stick figures gracing the image. Dirk couldn't help but smile at the little set of anime glasses on the stick figure's face. "This is me, and these are our katanas, and this is a bad guy ninja man!"

"I'll put this up on the fridge when we get home," Dirk promised, finding Dave's backpack and helping it onto his shoulders. He looked back at Mr. English, who had been leaning quietly on his desk, taking the whole scene in with a thougtful grin. "It was nice to me you, Mr. English." God, why the hell was he still _blushing?_

"Jake," Mr. Engl- er, Jake responded, patting the blonde man on the back. "It was nice to meet you too, Dirk. And I'll see you tomorrow, Dave." He got down on his knees in front of the kid and ruffled his hair. "Be a good boy, alright?" Dave giggled and nodded at the black-haired man with gusto, gathering his drawings in his arms along with his lunch box.

"Thanks for sticking around with the little guy," Dirk said, trying to control his rather obnoxiously girly blush on his cheeks. "I know you probably have important stuff to do, get back home to your wife and all..." _Fuck, really? _That was _so _not smooth. Dirk inwardly smacked himself in the face.

Jake chuckled, looking a little embarrassed himself. "I'm not married, actually. But you're very welcome." He extended a slender, tan hand once more for Dirk to shake. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Strider."

The feeling of the man's hand in his own sent a little shock of electricity through Dirk's body. Almost as if on a reflex, one of Dirk's fingers reached up to stroke Jake's wrist under the cuff of his grey sweater. The green-eyed man paused, pulling his hand back as quickly as possible but did not vocally express his disdain.

His eyes, however, said enough. The green orbs opened wide and looked down at his hand as though someone had lit it on fire.

_Fuck fuck fucking Jesus on a pogo stick, _Dirk thought, inwardly hurling a freshly sharpened katana at his own cranium. _What the literal fuck is wrong with you?_

Dirk grabbed Dave and left before he would do anything else embarrassing, or down-right rapey.

* * *

Dave, of course, wanted to tell his father all about his day and how great it was. Dirk wanted very much to listen and be attentive for his son, but _god, _he would never forget the look on the teacher's face when he wrist-raped him for the rest of his life. Even in Hell, he'd probably be embarrassed about it. He wanted to smack himself so hard, why the hell did he do that? _Who even does that kind of shit in the first place? _God, now Mr. English would Child Protective Services on him or file a restraining order or, god, just...fuck. _  
_

"Daddy?" Dirk broke his train of thought, looking through his windshield mirror to see Dave looking up at him expectantly.

"Yeah, little guy?"

"Did you hear what I said?" The tyke's face grew questioning, peering at his father through suspicious hazel, so bright they were almost red, eyes.

Dirk paused for a second, shaking his head at himself. Dave comes first. "No, sorry. What was it?"

"Mr. English taught us a song!" The four year old shook his head, looking exasperated over having to repeat himself.

"Oh yeah?" Dirk cracked a smile. "How did it go?"

He was expecting the blonde boy to break out in some generic Kidz Bop-y tune that seemed to now surround his life as a single father, but what he got instead was a surprise.

"_Throw my ticket out the window. Throw my suitcase out there, too. Throw my troubles out the door, I don't need them anymore. Cause tonight, I'll be staying here with you."_

"Damn," Dirk whistled. He hadn't heard that song in a while. He used to listen to Bob Dylan all the time as a kid, so the song brought back some good memories. "Did Mr. English tell you what that is?"

"Yeah!" Dave responded, perking up at his dad's interest. "He said it was this guy, Bob Dylan and the song was...uh, 'Tonight I'll be Staying Here With You.' "

"Mr. English has good taste." Dirk couldn't help but bite back his smile. This guy only seemed to get better and better. Good taste in music and smoking hot? Yes please.

Too bad he scared the poor guy after having known him only five minutes. "So, uh...what else you learn?"

"Not much," Dave said, shrugging in his car seat. "We mostly just talked about what we're gonna do. Mr. English said we're gonna learn how to count and about letters and we'll do crafts. Oh, and everyday we're gonna learn a new song!"

"That's awesome! I can't wait to hear you sing them." Dirk turned around in his seat to give Dave a wink, and soon enough they had pulled up to their apartment complex where he could finally lay on the couch and wallow in his embarrassment properly.

* * *

Dirk certainly did wallow. Or, at least, he tried to. Until Roxy, Jane, and Rose burst into his apartment without any warning whatsoever.

"Guess who's here!" Roxy sang as she threw the door to Dirk and Dave's tiny two-bedroom apartment wide open, her wife and daughter close behind.

"Is it Domino's?" Dirk moaned into his pillow, still buried under an anime blanket on their plushy couch. He wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with Roxy. Sure, she was his best friend, but sometimes she was too much. Especially when Dirk was in the mood to wallow.

"Nope! I'll give you a hint though. It's three beautiful women, and at least one of them could go for a nice cosmo right now!" Roxy waltzed up to the couch, unceremoniously lifting the blanket off of Dirk before tackling him in a big sloppy hug. "Give me all your alcohols!"

"Jesus Christ, Rox," Dirk murmured, stretching largely once the eccentric blonde woman had freed him. "You only love me for my bar."

"That's true," Roxy admitted, chuckling. "It's okay, Sleeping Beauty, I'll get it myself." She showed herself into the Striders' shabby kitchen, no doubt intent on running Dirk's bar dry. Dirk looked up to see a sheepish Jane standing above him, holding Rose's hand in her own porcelain one.

"Sorry about all this," she said, blushing prettily under her red glasses. "She insisted. Is Dave here?"

"Yeah, Janey. He's in his room playing video games." Dirk looked down at Rose and smiled warmly. "You can go play with him if you'd like."

Rose smiled back politely, and nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Strider," and she hopped off to play with her friend. Once the little girl would gone, Dirk yawned deeply into the arm of his couch, stretching his aching back muscles.

"What time is it?" he murmured.

"Eh, 6:46," Jane responded, looking at her phone. Dirk looked up at the woman, who no doubt had only just gotten home from work when Roxy dragged her out the door for their surprise visit to the Strider household. She was still wearing her standard blue skirt and white blouse, sans apron. She owned a small bakery in town, and earned a decent amount of money off of her delicious homemade cookies and cakes. The blue-eyed lady looked pretty tired, but regardless, she smiled down at the blonde man before her. "You have work soon."

"Noooo," Dirk moaned, rolling over and complaining like a toddler. "I don't wanna."

"But you hafta!" Roxy's overly cheery voice rung in from the kitchen. She giggled to herself. "Someone needs to be bringing in the chips around here!" She trailed into the living room again, a martini glass filled with the pink cosmo drink clutched gracefully in her manicured hand. "And you're the only one to do it."

"Yeah," Dirk conceded, finally standing up and smoothing out his white _Pokemon _shirt. Unfortunately for him, he worked the night shift as a bartender at a small bar near his apartment. It wasn't the best work around, but it paid well and the owner often gave him a little extra when he helped out at the adjacent auto shop. Still, he was particularly dreading work on that day, having worn himself out in his wallowing and completely losing track of time. "Can you take Dave for today? I forgot to feed him and I'm kind of out of time." He started work at 7:00, and though the bar was within walking distance, he needed time to pull on something decent. There was no hope for time to take a shower.

"Yes, yes, of course!" Jane said cheerily, her short brunette curls bouncing. "He's in good hands."

"Yep!" Roxy assured Dirk, though he could see she was already starting to get tipsy. At the very least, he could trust Jane. "Now, shoo! Go be the bread winner, big boy!"

He nodded, hurrying into his bedroom to pull on a white button down shirt and some jeans. He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly, trying to calm the tangled blonde mess. Soon enough, he had his anime glasses and keys and was running out the door with seven minutes to get there. "Tell Dave I said bye!" he called, hoping someone had heard him.

* * *

Lucky enough for Dirk, it was a Monday night, and Monday nights tended to be rather uneventful at the bar. The dimly lit restaurant was a peaceful sort of quiet, the low drone of a soccer game playing on the flat screen in the corner next to the pool table. A few patrons sat about in booths and at the bar, and sleepy and peaceful on that night. Dirk sat behind the bar, pouring the occasional drink but spending most of his time alone with his thoughts. This was the good part of his job; the nights where there wasn't too much to do so he could just relax and think.

Around ten, one of his favorite regulars walked into the bar, yawning as he took his stool at the counter. "Hey, Horuss," Dirk brightly greeted the long-haired patron, already pulling out the ingredients for his regular drink, a whisky sour.

"Dirk," Horuss greeted in his usual serious but polite tone, nodding at the bartender as he removed his coat. "How are you?"

"I'm hanging in there," Dirk answered with a lopsided grin, glad to see his old friend. "How've you been doing? Good day at the shop?"

"It was okay," the Egyptian shrugged, taking a delicate sip of his beverage. "Nothing to interesting. A few tune-ups but otherwise slow. I see it's a quiet night here, as usual." Horuss nodded around the golden-hued place, to the few peaceful patrons surrounding them.

"Yeah, it's good. Always nice to have a shift without a drunken bar fight."

Horuss cracked a smile. "Dave started school, right? How's he liking it?"

Dirk lit up at the thought of his adopted son. "Aw, yeah, Dave? He started preschool just this morning and he already loves it. Hell, the kid was hopping around the house like a monkey the whole week before just getting ready. He'll do great, I know. He's a smart kid, and he likes the teacher. What about Equius? How's first grade treating him?"

Horuss sighed, shaking his head. "That kid is smart as hell, but he's still having trouble making friends. I'm hoping this year he'll open up a little more, you know? He's always been a bit of an introvert, like his dad. But I'll be damned if he isn't a genius."

"I know what you mean," Dirk said, trying to lift his friend's spirits. He poured him another whiskey sour. "But first grade is totally different from kindergarten. This is the year he'll make friends. Just give him time. Plus, he's got his mom's genes, so he'll be a real charmer."

Horuss chuckled. Horuss' wife, Meulin, was one of those pretty women that you couldn't help but love. After five years of bartending at the place, Dirk had plenty of time to get to know Horuss and his family. He'd even met Meulin a few times, and he had to admit she was a great girl. She had long black hair, thick and glossy with curls. She was petite, probably just scratching at 5'3, which was a whole foot shorter than her husband. The two made an interesting couple, being so different in personality. Horuss was strong, serious, and quiet, while Meulin was perky and cute. However, they had been together for almost eight years and had two kids together; Equius, who was seven, and Nepeta who was two.

"Yeah, you're right. Meulin's got to have had some influence on him," Horuss inspected his half empty glass thoughtfully before finishing it off. "Well, I'd better head back now before Meulin thinks I'm doing something wrong." He slid out his wallet and put a few bills on the counter. "Have a good night, Dirk."

"You too, Horuss." Dirk watched the engineer leave through the front door. Checking his watch, he saw that it was 10:45. He still had over three hours until he could go back home. He sighed and leaned against the counter, trying to focus on the soccer match on the tv for something to do.

He didn't know he had fallen asleep until he felt a hand lightly tap him on the shoulder. "Whu-?" he started, lifting his head groggily and looking around, momentarily forgetting where he was. Then he remembered. Oh shit, he was working. You're not supposed to sleep at work. He hoped to God that whoever woke him up wasn't his boss.

At first, he didn't recognize the man leaning over the counter, looking at him with concern. That is, until he heard the deep voice. "Are you alright?"

Oh. Oh fuck. What? "Jake!" Dirk said, a little too loudly, his cheeks flaring up. What was a preschool teacher doing in a bar? Better question, why did it have to be this bar?

A look of recognition flashed through Jake's green eyes. "Oh, yes!" he said, looking surprised. "It's Dirk, right? You're Dave's dad." He smiled bashfully, taking a seat at the counter. Dirk notice that he had changed out of his teacher garb and was wearing a decidedly more casual pair of jeans and a green plaid shirt. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I could say the same thing," Dirk said, blinking at the man. Jesus Christ, he looked even hotter in jeans and plaid. Was that even possible? "Well, eh, what can I get for you?" He tried to put on his practiced, professional 'hi-I'm-just-a-bartender' face, though it was getting pretty difficult with Jake looking right at him.

"Vodka and coke, please."

Dirk nodded, trying to distract himself from the man with preparing the rather simple drink. He pulled out a napkin, placing the glass in front of Jake. "Here you go, man."

Jake smiled his thanks, which effected Dirk a little more than he hoped to admit. He was caught between wanting the noirette to leave as soon as possible and wanting him to stay until his shift ended at two. This little crush was getting rather obnoxious, Dirk decided.

"So how long have you been working here?" Jake's deep voice cut into the orange-eyed man's inner monologue, and he looked up to see the teacher leaning his elbows on the counter, looking at Dirk with genuine interest.

"Oh, yeah, uh, five years now," he responded, cringing at his stutter. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah, I just moved into town over the summer," Jake said with a pleasant smile. "I've been too busy with unpacking to get a decent drink." With that, he too anther long sip from his vodka. "I've needed it."

Dirk chuckled lightly. Jake English didn't seem like the kind of guy who drank in dingy little bars. "Where were you before?" He hoped he didn't sound to prying.

"I was going to college in Colorado, working on my master's degree. Once I finished, I took a job at a local school for a few years but it wasn't for me," Jake said, fiddling absentmindedly with his napkin. "I was going to stay there to teach, but I kind of liked this place better. It's a lot cozier." Dirk had to agree there. The small Texas town was very quaint and quiet, being a few miles outside of the city he had grown up in. "What about you, Dirk? You always lived in Texas?"

"Oh yeah," Dirk grinned. "Born and raised. But I used to live in Austin. I moved to this town when I was eighteen."

"Ah." Jake regarded Dirk for a moment with a curious look. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty-six," Dirk said. "So I guess I've lived here for awhile. What about you, Mr. English?" It seemed like the man had either forgotten the whole hand thing or was polite enough not to mention it. Maybe he thought it was an accident? Either way, Dirk thanked whatever entity was chilling upstairs for taking pity on him. "You look kind of young for all those years of college and teaching."

Jake laughed, a cute, amused little sound that made Dirk's heart leap. "Wow, do I really look that young? I'm actually thirty-four." Dirk paused, a little dumbfounded. He didn't take the man to be a day over twenty-four. He had a very youthful face, but thirty-four wasn't really _that _old. Still, eight years was a bit of an age gap...

_I could totally call him Daddy in bed._

"Fuck!" Dirk swore out loud, knocking his hand into a bottle of rum. Where the hell do these thoughts keep coming from? God, he just met the guy! "Sorry," he said sheepishly, rubbing his injured hand.

"It's quite alright," Jake replied with a shrug. "Though I've never had such a reaction to my age before."

"Oh, shit, no, man! Sorry, I just...I was thinking about-" Dirk gave up. Nope. He was an idiot and now Jake could tell.

Jake chuckled, biting his lip. "You're interesting," he said simply. It didn't sound like an insult. Dirk looked down, his cheeks pink.

"Yeah," he laughed nervously. "So are you. But, you know, in a better way."

"I highly doubt that," Jake responded, taking a swig of his nearly empty glass. Dirk quickly went to making him a second one. "I'm actually boring as hell once you get to know me."

"I doubt that," Dirk said with a little smile, replacing Jake's empty glass with a fresh one. "It's not everyday you see a young male preschool teacher."

"Yeah, I guess." Jake looked up at Dirk with a smirk gracing his pink lips. "You thought I was going to be a grandmother, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I was a little surprised, I have to admit."

"That's normal. A lot of people react like that. One lady looked like she'd seen a ghost when she came to pick her daughter up today. She ran out like she thought I was going to kill her."

Dirk looked up at the man through his eyelashes. He was already almost halfway through his second glass. "Kill her? I don't think that's what was going through her mind." He chuckled at the confused look Jake gave him. "She was probably embarrassed to see someone so good-looking."

_Why. The. Fuck. Did. He. Keep. Saying. This. Shit._

Before Dirk had a chance to shove his face into the garbage disposal, he saw Jake trying hard to stifle an all-out giggle fit. His face turned pink from the effort. "_Pfft," _he giggled. "If only." Jake didn't seem to notice, or care about, Dirk's horrific accidental flirting. "She just wanted to grab her kid and leave. I think she thought I was creepy."

"Naw, man," Dirk waved the teacher off, trying to at least make him feel better about himself.

Jake shrugged his shoulders, but couldn't help but smile a bit at the tall bartender. The two talked a little more after that, Dirk explaining how he came about having Dave and Jake explaining what college in Colorado was like and his obsession with movies. "Same here," Dirk had said with a smirk. He considered himself a bit of an expert on the subject, especially the campier films. They discussed a few of the finer points of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show, _and Dirk got Jake to giggle with his small-scale impression of Frankenfurter.

"So Dave told me you taught the kids a little bit of Dylan," Dirk said with a grin.

"Ah, yes! I think you should start kids off early with good music before they're effected by the crap the music industry produces nowadays," Jake responded, shaking his head at himself. "Wow, I really do sound like an old man."

"No, not at all! Dylan is one of my favorite artists. Behind Springsteen, of course. And Floyd."

"Pink Floyd was one of the first bands I ever liked." Jake gave the blond an appreciative smile, taking the last sip of his drink. He looked down at the empty glass and sighed. "Well," he started, pulling out his wallet for a few bills, "this was really fun, but I shouldn't drink anymore, what with school in the morning and all. It was good to see you again, Dirk."

"Same with you," Dirk nodded at the black haired man, grabbing his empty glass to put in the sink. He looked at the clock, seeing that it was 12:26. He'd been talking to Jake for two hours.

When he turned back around, he saw the teacher had his hand extended. Dirk froze. Last time he shook the man's hand, he wrist-raped him. Obviously, that hadn't effected Jake as much as he thought it would. But still, if Dirk somehow did it a second time, he would have to die.

But Jake stood there, his hand raised expectantly and the last thing Dirk wanted to be was rude. He swallowed his fear, carefully putting his hand in the other man's and shaking his firmly. However, the handshake lingered a little afterwards and Dirk felt a strange, tickling sensation on the front of his wrist. He looked down.

Oh.

He looked back up, the blush on his face painting him crimson. Jake smirked at the man like he had once something, and then had the audacity to _fucking wink. _Oh Christ, what the fuck? Dirk stuttered for a moment, at a loss for words. The teacher's green eyes twinkled with amusement.

"See you tomorrow, _Dirk," _he said in a gravelly voice. Dirk's vocal cords decided not to work, so he just nodded and watched the teacher leave out the front door.

After a few minutes of standing there, Dirk finally realized he couldn't take this anymore. "Shit," he whispered under his breath, hurrying to the bathroom and locking himself in the nearest stall.

He quickly unbuttoned his jeans, pulling out the hardened cause of his discomfort. He felt like such a creep, but _god, those damn eyes. _Why the hell did Jake have to look at him like that? He ran his fist fervently over his shaft, pumping his hard-on as quietly as he could in case anyone else was in the bathroom. He thought of the tall, tan teacher, with his messy hair and easy smile. He pictured the man in the tight grey sweater, how it showed off his lean yet muscular physique. Dirk tried to picture what was beneath those clothes.

"Fuck," he whispered as he came into a wad of tissue, throwing it into the toilet and zipping himself back up before returning to his post at the bar. He hoped to god he didn't look half as shitty as he felt.


End file.
